


No Use In Crying Over Spilled Jelly

by bittybae (piscespride)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piscespride/pseuds/bittybae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But it’s not the sun that wakes Boyd up, or the birds that sing outside their window, and not even the News Channels that Stiles watches with the volume turned up high while he eats breakfast. </p><p>None of that wakes him up, because it’s not morning.</p><p> </p><p>Prompt: You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar AU with Boyd finding Stiles crying and he tries everything to try and comfort him — Anonymous<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Use In Crying Over Spilled Jelly

Boyd likes to think he’s a heavy sleeper. That’s what he tries to convince himself in the morning, when the sun is shining bright in the room because Stiles forgot to shut the curtains, again.

But it’s not the sun that wakes Boyd up, or the birds that sing outside their window, and not even the News Channels that Stiles watches with the volume turned up high while he eats breakfast. 

None of that wakes him up, because it’s not morning. Well, not technically, Boyd thinks as the alarm clock flashes red, bright  _12:07 am_  into his eyes when he looks. It’s still dark out, and for a moment Boyd is wondering why he woke up in the first place when he remembers the crash, and when he notices the space next to him is cold and he sighs. He swears Stiles went to bed with him, but he must have been mistaken.

He pushes himself out of bed and slides on some pajamas over his naked body, shivering into the cool air. His footsteps were soft against the wooden floors, leading him into the only room in the house that was lit up in bright lights, the kitchen. It’s there he discovers his missing boyfriend, sitting amongst broken glass (what he assumes woke him up) and strawberry jelly, and a jar of peanut butter on the counter.

Boyd says nothing as he walks back to their bedroom, sliding on some slippers and a shirt and going back to clean. He’s not at all surprised at the bags under Stiles’ eyes, or the slight stubble appearing in patches, the signs of a writer in the middle of his next break, but he is surprised to see tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over, and the trembling of his lips as he stares at the messy floor in despair.

Boyd rushes over, ignoring the loud  _crunch_  noises he leaves behind as he carefully kneels next to Stiles, cupping his face and wiping tears away.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened, Stiles?” Boyd asks gently, petting a few stray hairs away as he speaks. Stiles doesn’t answer, just continues sniffling and fat tears continue to roll down his face. Boyd’s chest tightens uncomfortably, and he pulls Stiles into a hug after prying away a spoon he hadn’t noticed clutched in his hands. He lets it drop to the floor as he rubs Stiles’ back, shushing quietly as the boy cries in his arms.

Boyd isn’t sure how long they stay like that, but after some time Stiles speaks, voice wet and wobbly.

“I just wanted to make your lunch, so you didn’t have to get up early. I just wanted to help.” He croaks out, and Boyd is so relieved that it’s over something as small as that he could cry too. He doesn’t, though, instead choosing to tighten his hold on his lover and sigh at the way he relaxes in his arms.

“Stiles, I don’t need you making me lunch. I need you to remember when to eat, and sleep, and shower and all that. I’m fine with making my own lunch, I enjoy it.” He admits, rubbing his hands over the small of Stiles’ back. 

They sit there for a while longer before Boyd lifts Stiles up, setting him down on the glass-free floor while he cleans his mess up. There’s broken glass everywhere, and the jelly is going to be awful to clean up, but Boyd can’t bring himself to ask Stiles for help, especially when he looks over and sees his boyfriend sleep in what is probably days.

It’s another hour for Boyd to get the kitchen spotless, and to check Stiles for any injuries, before they can crawl into bed and sleep.


End file.
